


The Devil May Care

by whopooh



Series: Devils, Detectives, and Questionable Decisions [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV), Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, I just really love them and feel they would appreciate each other, a brief meeting in Paris, a first ever cross-over fic between these two worlds, incorrigible flirts, phrynifer, pre-canon for both shows, so they meet in Paris 1919, these two have to meet!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-31 14:16:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20795294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopooh/pseuds/whopooh
Summary: Phryne Fisher meets the devil - or, Lucifer meets the Honourable Miss Fisher!Paris 1919. Lucifer is peeping up topside for one of his short vacations on Earth, seeking out the nightlife of Paris. Phryne is staying in the city with her friends after her time as an ambulance driver in World War I.Of course they are bound to meet, and of course there will be shenanigans.





	The Devil May Care

**Author's Note:**

> Lucifer and Phryne are both clever and flirty detectives, but my muse decided to go back in time to before they were detectives. This is pre-canon for both shows, except the frame that is set somewhere in season 3 of MFMM, a conversation between Phryne and her companion Dot who is a young, sweet Catholic woman. 
> 
> For people not familiar with Miss Fisher, she is a brilliant, fun, beautifully dressed and sexually liberated lady detective in Melbourne 1928, having a wonderful URST-relationship with her Inspector Robinson. She was a nurse in France during WWI, then she lived in England and travelled before she came back to Australia in 1928.
> 
> For people not familiar with Lucifer, he is a brilliant, fun, beautifully dressed and sexually liberated police consultant in Los Angeles in the 2010s, who also happens to be the actual devil, having a wonderful URST-relationship with his Detective Decker. Before he decided to take a _long_ vacation from Hell and live among the humans in LA around the year 2010, he used to pop up now and then to different places on Earth for short visits. This is one of those times.
> 
> Thank you so much to Miss_Ash and aurora_australis for beta reading! <3

_But all that touches us, you and me, _  
_binds us together like the stroke of a bow _  
_that draws one chord from two strings._

_Rainer Maria Rilke_

“I met the devil once,” Phryne says. 

They have just had dinner and are reclining in the chairs in the parlour – Phryne with a whiskey in hand, Dot with a cup of cocoa beside her and her hands busy knitting, the small tick-tick of the needles the only sound between them. It’s a slow evening after a long day, which included a church visit to search out information for a case. Phryne has been thinking about religion since. About God and angels and the Great Adversary she had seen painted as a horned beast in one of the side chapels.

“Or, well,” she adds with a smile, “at least a self-proclaimed one.”

“A devil!” says Dot, her hand reaching to the pendant on her necklace as if seeking reassurance. “Do you mean here? In Melbourne?” 

“No! No, stay calm, Dot,” Phryne says with a twinkle in her eyes. “This was in Europe, and ten years ago. Just after the war.”

Dot lets the needles rest in her lap and contemplates this for a while. 

“A man who claims to be the devil… What did he do? Did he eat children?” She crosses herself just at the thought, at the memory of a horrible painting in an old schoolbook. “Oh! Maybe it was really he who started the Great War?”

Phryne shakes her head, drawing her feet up under her as she rests against the back of the chair.

“Nothing of the sort, Dot. He was quite the gentleman. I met him in Paris, after the war. He was tall, dark, and handsome. No, that doesn’t cover it… he was magnetic. He had a wonderful sense of humour. And what a lover he was!”

Dot takes up her needles again, so as not to let her embarrassment show. Phryne doesn’t notice and continues.

“Let's just say he made Ronaldo the Rodeo Rider seem like a blushing virgin.”

“Miss!” Dot protests. ”That’s impossible!” She had, after all, walked in on her Miss and the rodeo rider once and what she had seen had been seared into her mind forever.

“I'm not joking, Dot. We had a magnificent week together.” She says it flippantly, but then her tone changes and becomes serious. “It was after René, when I had just started to piece myself back together again. I was living with friends in Paris; they took care of me and let me sleep wherever they had room, and I had been laying low for a while.” Her gaze is far away as she continues. “I met him at a nightclub. Oh, the music! The ambience! Why, people practically glowed!”

Phryne plays with the glass in her hand as she remembers. 

“And he, he glowed most of all. He came up to me at the bar, all suave and cocky, and said – I remember it like it was yesterday – ‘Of all the women in here tonight, you are the one with the most profound desires.’” 

\---

“Of all the women in here tonight, you are the one with the most profound desires.”

The dark-haired man who had spoken looked at her intently, setting down his glass on the bar beside them. She had eyed him a few times during the evening; he was without doubt the most interesting man in the club. The way he moved and the way his eyes assessed the room spoke of an intensity and awareness she appreciated in a man. Judging by his accent, he was clearly English. His suit was hard to place – not typical for the season, slightly old-fashioned, but very well fitting. She tilted her head and arched an eyebrow at him.

“Really? That’s a line I’ve never heard used before.” 

He looked at her, smiling.

“Well, it’s true. You’d rather I complimented your looks? I could have, of course; you are spectacular. Though I find your desires much more compelling.”

She smiled at that; this man surely knew how to be both forthright and complimentary at the same time. She liked that in a man – and she liked nothing better than a good flirt.

“And you simply happen to be an expert on both women and desires, do you?” she said coyly, looking into those brown eyes that seemed to be measuring her up. He was obviously teasing, but she could see he wasn’t _just_ playing; there was depth to his eyes even as he smirked. Something in that gaze made her feel tingly, like it bore into her and dissected her down to her very core. Not unpleasant, but unusual.

The stranger reached out for his glass again and answered, “I am the devil, after all. It’s only what’s to be expected.”

“Oh, really?” She laughed delightedly. “Another line I’ve never heard, and I’ve heard _plenty_. You certainly know how to surprise a woman.” 

The man made a small nod at her teasing. “I assure you, I do. In every respect.” The innuendo in his voice was like velvet, or perhaps how velvet would sound if it were also able to set things on fire. 

He smirked, and she gave him an answering smile before grasping her own glass – whiskey of the only sort she could afford, which meant not very good. Being an heiress didn’t really mean much when her father had all the money and she was trying to stay clear of him. Ever since the war ended and her ambulance unit disbanded, she’d stayed on in Paris, living from day to day, sometimes getting by as an art model. 

Phryne took a sip of her drink, watching the stranger through her dark eyelashes, knowing full well how she could affect a man with her gaze. She saw his pupils dilate in response.

“I confess I’m not entirely sure about the devil line,” she said, slowly. “I escaped one not too long ago. I don’t really need another.”

“Is someone taking my identity and soiling it again? Terrible, predictable humans!” he huffed, annoyed. Then he collected himself. “What happened?”

In just one heartbeat, their conversation had turned from flirtatious to serious, but Phryne didn’t mind. For some reason, she felt safe talking about René and how he’d impacted her life, safe in the knowledge that this stranger – who she’d only known for a few minutes – was nothing like her French ex-lover. She couldn’t explain what it was about this lithe, panther-like man that made her trust him, but she did.

“The same old story, I suppose”, she replied, rolling her eyes at herself. “I loved him, or I thought I did. He was exhilarating, and he was gentle – and then he was very cruel. He wanted to own me, decide where I went and who I talked to. Then he hit me.” 

The man’s eyes suddenly seemed to flash red. Phryne decided the lighting in the nightclub must be particularly modern today. Quite fitting to the very modern sound from the band, of course.

“The devil doesn’t _own_ or _force_. I would never hurt someone like that. I assure you he was not a devil, but a very human man. And most of all, a coward.” He spit out the last word.

Phryne was surprised at how good his anger made her feel. There was something in the intensity of his convictions that was reassuring. Like he was a man you’d want to have on your side, and you knew for sure that he was. 

She shrugged.

“I left the day after. I snuck out of his apartment when he was away with his friends and never looked back.” 

“I am happy to hear it.” He toasted her, and she joined in with a wry smile.

“As long as I live, I will never again give a man control over me. No one will make me do anything I don’t want to. I vowed it to myself the very same day.” 

She nodded as if to emphasize her statement and saw his mouth turn into a soft, kind smile. 

“And you’re right,” she continued, deciding to not linger on her past lover. He was a ghost of the past, and she had decided to focus entirely on her present. “I suppose the devil does get the blame for terrible choices humans make all by themselves, because they’re too petty, too angry, and too sure of what they think they deserve. Poor devil.”

She saw a tiny flinch go through him.

“It’s true, I do get all the blame. But I don’t need the pity.”

“Of course,” she said, turning the mood flippant again with a small tilt to her head as she smiled. “And I’m not really the pitying type.”

He eyed her from top to bottom and up again, eyes lingering on the way her dress revealed her legs and the way the fabric clung to her waist, a smile slowly spreading on his lips.

“I do like the sound of that.”

His overt scrutiny made her deliberately, slowly, return the favour. This man was tall and lanky. His dark hair was impeccably coiffed, his nose proudly Roman, and his dark brown eyes some of the most beautiful she had ever seen. Not to mention his lips, that somehow just seemed to beg for thorough attention. This surely was a man she wasn’t ashamed to be attracted to. 

She reached out her hand.

“Care for a dance, Mr Devil?”

“It’s Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar,” he said as he took her offered hand. He paused while she snorted; she supposed he must be rather used to that reaction. “And who do I have the pleasure of dancing with?” He downed the rest of his drink and discarded the glass, allowing her to drag him to the dance floor.

“I'm Phryne Fisher.”

Now it was his turn to laugh.

“Phryne? Like the Greek courtesan?”

“Exactly like the Greek courtesan,” she replied, smiling as she met his eyes proudly, straightening her spine. “Baring her breasts to the court to acquit herself.”

Lucifer nodded thoughtfully.

“I met her, you know. Her beauty isn’t exaggerated.” He looked at her again. “So, a fitting name.”

Phryne smiled, very pleased that he recognised the source of her name and didn’t deride her for it. Well, his name was Lucifer, after all, so who would be talking? His claim to have known this lady, who died several centuries before Christ, she chose to ignore.

“Well, I’ll be happy to see the devil move to the devil’s music, then,” she retorted.

He grasped her waist and tilted his head.

“I am all yours, Phryne Fisher.”

\---

“Did he have horns? A tail? Did you turn him away?” Dot’s voice grows more anxious by the question.

“No, Dot, of course he didn’t. And, of course I didn’t. He was a wonderful conversationalist, a delightful dancer, and exceedingly beautiful. I do not turn away what is practically a gift from god.”

Dot coughs and mutters, “Perhaps that isn’t exactly what he was” to herself.

Phryne pretends she didn’t hear. “And later on, it was very clear his anatomy was like any human man’s. Although his stamina was out of this world.” She winks, before she catches herself and frowns instead. “But maybe this is more details than you feel comfortable with, Dot?”

Her companion, who had just been about to cross herself, instead sits up straight in protest.

"Oh no, Miss, I’m getting married soon, I can hear these kinds of things."

Phryne cocks an eyebrow at her, queryingly.

“I’m certain, Miss! Do you mean that you...”

“Of course, Dot! And it was just what I needed. He was a wonderful lover. He surely knew what he was doing.”

\---

They danced, and they drank, and they danced again, finding their way on the crowded dance floor. Her partner had a wicked sense of humour and was full of astute, curiously distanced observations of the people around them; Phryne hadn’t laughed so much in a long time. 

The past months she had managed to put herself back, to become again who she wanted to be – an open-minded, curious, easily intrigued woman, sampling the world and all its content without any fear of repercussions. It was wonderful to feel so easily accepted by this new, intriguing acquaintance. He was obviously as ready for adventure as she was, if his suggestive smile was anything to go by. 

She couldn’t wait to get her mouth on those delicate lips. When he saw her gaze linger, Lucifer practically purred.

“One more drink, Miss Fisher?” he asked, moving to the bar before she even managed to reply.

“I see why they call you the tempter,” she replied, but she nodded and watched him as he ordered, the bartender immediately at his attention.

She had always loved the brief connection she could have with a temporary lover – a connection especially intense and unique because it was short, fleeting. The anticipation of new traits and quirks and moves was exhilarating, and this Lucifer Morningstar was more interesting than usual. Somehow, he was so very much a man of the world, ready to flirt at a moment’s notice, but he was oddly innocent too. He didn’t know the most common things, he claimed he had missed the whole Great War, and then surprised her with the most exact expertise. 

Suddenly she realised why she felt such a strong bond to this man. He was open for new adventures, ready to meet people, to dive into their world and experience things with them and through them. He took his fun very seriously. And there was something profound beneath the layers of glee and excitement. 

He was, basically, just like her.

As he came back with two strong drinks in hand, Phryne also decided she didn't mind his devil persona. If he wanted to protect himself by using a _nom de guerre_ of the more unusual kind, he certainly pulled it off well, never breaking character. She had to applaud his stubbornness.

She had danced more than five dances with the same man and only seemed to have eyes for him, so naturally her dearest Mac came over to check on her. In her brown suit, fedora, and beautiful vest Mac blended into the nightclub perfectly, as modern a woman as was possible to conceive. 

As soon as she joined them, Lucifer managed to elegantly catch her hand and kiss it; he smiled delightedly at the enormous eyeroll she gave him.

“I am sure you are aware that is completely fruitless, Mr Tall-Dark-and-Handsome,” she said levelly.

“Lucifer Morningstar,” he corrected her. “And I’m impressed. You’re a hard nut to crack, Miss…”

“Macmillan. And it’s Doctor. Or at least very soon.” Mac knew how to be blunt too.

“Oh! I have never met a female Doctor before, Doctor Macmillan, I didn’t know they were allowed,” Lucifer said, eyeing her delightedly. “What a splendid development! You humans are making progress after all.”

Phryne saw Mac’s double take and joined in the conversation.

“Oh yes, Mac dear, I forgot to tell you, this is the devil himself. He’s here to study humanity and well, perhaps mostly its women, if I’m any judge.” Her teasing smile got a similar response from her tall companion.

“I see,” Mac said flatly. “I take it you are happy to oblige as… study material, then?”

Phryne’s heart squeezed; she knew exactly what Mac was asking. Her friend was still rattled that she hadn’t understood how bad things had been with René, and she had taken to be a little bit protective over her ever since. The few times Phryne had gone home with someone over the past weeks, Mac had made sure to know exactly where she was going, and Phryne loved her for it. 

“I certainly am,” she replied with a smile that could only be described as ‘the cat that caught the canary’. 

Mac seemed mollified, and soon left them again to their dancing.

“I’m staying with my Sapphic friends near the Sorbonne,” Phryne said sometime later. “I don’t really have a place of my own.” 

“Sapphists? That does sound like fun,” Lucifer replied.

“Oh, it is. But they don’t care much for male company being brought home,” she continued, allowing her gaze to deliberately fall to his lips. 

“I have a suite. I'm at the Peninsula Hotel.”

Of course he was; it was one of the most luxurious hotels in Paris. She smiled at the contrast – him staying in such a hotel and still finding his way to this daring, and to be fair quite seedy, nightclub.

“That sounds like a plan,” she said, arching her eyebrow.

His smile was broad, and his eyes shone with delight. 

“I love it when women know what they want,” he said, leaning forward so his lips were excruciatingly close to hers, so close she knew he would feel her breath on his lips when she spoke next. 

“You make this sound like the beginning of an excellent night,” she exhaled. “Lead the way, Mr Morningstar.”

He stayed so close she thought he would kiss her, but after a moment he retreated from her mouth and reached out his arm for her to hold, as a gentleman would. She placed her hand around his bicep and followed as he found their way out.

When she glanced at him in the corner of her eye, she caught his self-satisfied smile. It wasn’t just smug, but more like it was trying to be the actual embodiment of smugness.

“You may call me Mr Morningstar now, but before the night is over, I’m going to make you scream my first name multiple times,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

She thought for a moment before replying.

“I’m not against the idea,” she said. “But I will make you work for it.”

His answering smile told her he wouldn’t mind in the least.

\---

“I think he may have been the best lover I ever had. It's like he knew my innermost secrets and wanted to fulfil them all. He... oh, yes it was actually from him I learned that curious thing you can do where the man–” Phryne pauses, taking in her companion’s reddening face and shrugs “–oh, never mind about the details. It was fantastic, let’s leave it at that.”

Dot’s knitting has turned rather frantic. It makes her listen all the better, she told Phryne once. It also makes her busy with something other than shuddering from embarrassment.

“That sounds lovely, Miss,” she says kindly, deciding to try to steer the conversation somewhere safer. “Where did he come from? Was he a Frenchman?”

“He sounded English. Well, sometimes he used odd wordings, as if he had spent a lot of time away from home and forgot the expressions. His French was impeccable, too.” She ponders for a while before adding, “I suppose the devil really doesn’t have a home country, does he? Except maybe Hell?”

“Oh no, that would be Heaven, Miss,” Dot interjects. “He was originally from Heaven, and the brightest of the angels too, beloved by God. Hell was where he was banished. That didn’t happen until he rebelled and fell.”

“You’re right, Dot! If he was the devil, he must have been an angel too!” Phryne’s eyes light up at the realisation. “I may have befriended an angel!”

“He definitely had stopped being one, though, hadn’t he? And I know you’re just pulling my leg, Miss, of course he can’t have been the actual devil. He wasn’t evil, was he?”

“He certainly wasn’t. He liked a good time, or, well, many good times. But it wasn’t just that. He was genuinely interested. So attentive, wanting to understand me. Strangers aren’t usually like that to someone they just met.”

“So he was like you, Miss!” Dot exclaims happily. She has for a long time marvelled at how her mistress always has time for people in need, even the seemingly hopeless ones. 

Phryne thinks for a short while, and then laughs. 

“I wouldn't go quite that far, Dot. I think he’d have a few things to learn from me still.”

\---

Phryne awoke slowly. She immediately knew she wasn’t at home, on the sad mattress she had come to count as her bed – instead she was in a voluptuous, soft bed, with the most wonderful pillow and far too fine sheets. They were like a caress to her skin, and she decided that if she ever became rich – that is if she ever would be allowed to control any of the riches her family had fallen into during the war – she would never be cheap regarding bed linens. They were the most exquisite luxury and as far as she was concerned, those should be as close to one’s skin as possible. 

She stretched her body, lithe as a cat in the sunlight, and turned around to watch the man currently lying next to her. He was snuffling quietly, laying on his back, one hand beneath his neck and the other splayed over his stomach. He was beautiful - even more so in the morning light. His long lashes fluttered over his cheek, his lips with their very marked Cupid’s bow simply begged to be kissed. Her arm was lightly pressed against his side, and his body heat was very enjoyable. 

He was a pleasure, inside and out, she decided. Not only a skilled lover, but an infinitely attentive one, going from gentle to rough and back seamlessly, depending on the situation. And oh, how he had loved it when she steered the dance, when she surprised him with her suggestions and moves.

Under her gaze his eyes opened, large pools of brown meeting hers.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning, stranger,” she replied.

“I’m certain you don’t call a man a stranger after the third orgasm,” he said, a very unsubtle grin taking over his face. “And by the fifth, he’s practically an old friend.” 

“Good morning, then, old friend,” she said, grinning back as she pushed herself up to a sitting position. “I think you are utterly shameless, Mr Morningstar.” 

“Utterly and entirely,” he replied. “Though I don’t seem to be the only one in this room.”

She shrugged, easily conceding his point.

“I admit I am impressed by your Dutch cap, Miss Fisher,” he continued, reaching out to caress her arm lazily. “It’s ingenious, making things so much easier for everyone, no worries about unfortunate consequences. Not that I could ever beget a child anyway, but I can see it must help with human men.”

She rolled her eyes at his proclaimed distance to humanity.

“Yes, with _human_ men it is quite the help. I do not desire to have a child.” 

His eyes darkened and his smile slowly disappeared. He rose so he could lean on an arm and look her straight in the eye.

“What _do_ you desire, Phryne Fisher?” 

His voice was deep, compelling; a purr from a big, hungry cat. He had asked her the same question last night, making her tell him everything about what she wanted from him as they made love – but that had been light-hearted, fun. This time was more solemn.

He was absolutely mesmerising, eyes dark and probing deeply into her. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. She found she wanted to tell him about herself. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“I want everything,” she said tentatively, before picking up speed. “I want to experience, and know, and feel, and see, and love, and do, everything. See the world, meet people, take lovers, learn new things. And I want to be my own woman. I want to decide my own life, and not have to adjust to what father wants.” She paused for a second, before continuing. “I want to live life to the hilt, for everyone who never got the chance. And I want to make a difference in the world.”

He looked at her for a while and then he reached out his hand to caress her cheek, pushing her long, black strands away from her face. The compulsion to tell him faded, but she realised she wanted to go on, drag up the last, dearest, most hidden and intense wish too; the one she hadn’t spoken out loud since she was fifteen years old, wary of how everyone derided her for it. 

“And I want to meet my sister’s murderer and crush him to the ground,” she finished.

His eyes glowed at her intensity, at how many strong wishes this young, beautiful woman had.

“Those are some noble wishes, Phryne Fisher. I am absolutely sure you will do all that,” he said. 

He leaned in to kiss her, infinitely gently.

A warmth spread through her. It wasn’t often she opened up to people like this. He didn't seem upset that a woman wanted all these things, or that anybody did. He didn't seem surprised by her defiance towards her father, or shocked about the death of her sister. He simply accepted what she said. 

It made her feel like anything was possible.

Lucifer – yes, he still hadn’t come up with another name, never stopping that odd role-play – let go of her and left the bed to call for room service, ordering a large breakfast for two. He was completely naked as he stood there, speaking into the receiver, but it didn't seem to bother him. Again, Phryne had to smile. His lack of embarrassment reminded her so much of herself. 

He sat down on the bed again, pulled the covers over them both, and touched her arm. She thought he would suggest another round, which she honestly wouldn’t mind, but he surprised her.

“Tell me about your sister,” he said instead. “And your father.”

\---

“So you... talked?” 

Dot sounds surprised. She is leaning forward eagerly, her needles forgotten again as she has been immersed in Phryne’s story. 

“We did, over a magnificent breakfast. I hadn’t eaten so well in more than a year – it was absolute Heaven. He just laughed at my delight and made sure my coffee cup was never empty.”

Phryne loses herself in thought. Dot can almost see how she remembers every detail of that breakfast; the tastes and smells, and the man before her.

“Later, he asked me what I desired right then and there, and I told him rather explicitly.” She winks at her companion. 

“Miss!” Dot says, trying for scandalised, but her heart isn’t really in it. She is too used to her mistress’s antics by now. 

Phryne shrugs. “It seemed like a waste not to when he was such an athlete in bed.”

Dot takes up her knitting again, and Phryne refills her whiskey – of much higher quality than what she had been able to pay for in Paris 1919.

“We spent almost a week together. He asked to come see me and my Sapphic friends one evening, and he spent such an enjoyable night finding out who could be persuaded to also fancy a man, at least a man of his kind. Oh God, the way they teased each other over that afterwards, deeming him practically impossible to withstand, _“cet homme est quasiment irrésistible”_. 

Dot laughs; it seems she has finally thawed towards this devil man. Perhaps she has decided there’s no use being scandalised about something ten years after the fact.

\---

“So, you don’t particularly like your father?” Lucifer asked in the evening. 

They’d met up again in the bar of his hotel, after she’d said she was busy during the day. She’d been home to change clothes and spend some time with Mac. At the bar she’d found him sitting by the piano, mesmerising the room with his song. Once he spotted her, he finished the melody and came over to her with a drink. 

Phryne huffed.

“I really don’t. Granted, he taught me many tricks that come in handy – like picking a lock, or breaking and entering, or noticing when someone cheats at poker.” She snorted at that. “My more questionable talents, I suppose. I used to think the world of him, but he grew distant. Cruel. He would deride me, often punish me, but there was never any logic behind it. One moment, he would find my defiance endearing, another he decided he had to take it out of me. He locked me away in a cupboard, to teach me humility.” 

Phryne had been swirling the drink in her hand but looked up when she noticed her companion’s silence. She saw Lucifer Morningstar stare at her with an open mouth, looking like he was hesitating to speak.

“Really?” he finally got out. “Your father punished you like that?”

She nodded contemplatively.

“Oh, how I resented him. He still annoys me to no end when I see him,” she said, her mouth a thin line. “Which I try to do as little as possible. I stole his watch as retaliation and didn’t give it back until a year later. But just as he didn’t manage with me, I never managed to teach him humility either.”

Lucifer snorted.

“I wish I had managed to teach my father humility,” he said.

“The Devil has a father?” Phryne teased kindly. “Is that the even older, scarier Adversary?”

He flicked his eyes at her before fishing out a cigarette, lighting it and inhaling deeply, then slowly letting the smoke escape.

“I take it you’re not really a believer?”

“Can’t say that I am. And my parents didn’t manage to force me much to Sunday school either. I preferred to run loose and make trouble.”

He smiled at that.

“No, my father isn’t a devil. He’s God.”

Phryne looked at him, her memories of Christianity slowly slotting into place.

“You mean God is your _father_? Oh my, that must be terrible!”

He stared at her.

“What do you mean?”

“All-knowing, all-seeing, and not caring more about our poor lot? Asking the impossible from people and punishing them when they don’t manage? Or even when they do manage? I can see why you’d want to revolt.” She reached out her hand and he passed the cigarette to her, watching her inhale greedily before handing it back. Her voice turned huskier. “Did you really start a war against him?”

“Something like that,” Lucifer said and shrugged. “It’s hard to describe in human terms. I tried to go against him, but I lost. I was proud, and resentful. And he cast me out. Threw me into Hell.”

“He locked you in a cupboard?” she said, making him smile. “It’s a very poor parenting move.” She was silent for a moment. “But don’t you think that you’re better off here, after all, not having to follow his orders and live up to his view of you?”

Lucifer took a long drag from the cigarette, pondering her question.

“I think I could be better off, if I was allowed to stay here. To be among humans, living their normal lives. I could study you, perhaps be more like you." He paused briefly. "Well, not to mention how much I could improve everyone’s sex lives.” He winked at her in a ridiculous way; he really was a man who couldn’t stay serious for too long. “But unfortunately, my place is among the demons and the damned souls, the very worst of humankind. I’m never allowed to stay on Earth for long - that would be too easy on me.” 

He took a sip from his drink. 

“So I try to make the most of the short time I have.”

Phryne reached out her hand to squeeze his. He might talk in a strange way, but he made his stories and the religious figures in them sound so reasonable, so consistent. It all seemed to come from his heart.

“Then you fit perfectly here,” Phryne said. “We all try to find pleasure and indulge in it as fast as we can. Since the war, that seems to be the only reasonable way of living. We saw so much misery, and pain, and death – we just want to _live_.”

Lucifer looked at her and her hand still positioned over his, smiling wistfully.

“That’s a sentiment to my taste,” Lucifer said. “I may have missed this particular war, but I know enough about misery and despair and fight to find enjoying life the best comfort, whenever possible.”

“Would you…” Phryne said, her voice turning softer as she played with her glass, “would you like to feel that comfort with me? Again?”

Lucifer watched her attentively. He looked so surprised. She suspected not many people offered that to him, comfort. God knows she would never have thought it yesterday, when she met him in the nightclub – that he was a man who could ever need comfort. He had been so sure of himself, so fun, so expansive. The man in front of her now was much softer. Not only a playmate, but a soul in need of sustenance.

She rose and reached out her hand. After a short hesitation he took it, putting out his cigarette stub on the way. She started walking them out of the bar and to the hotel elevator, asking the operator for the upper level. Then they walked through the corridor, the only connection between them her pinkie finger touching his. The touch was electric.

As soon as he’d closed the door to his suite behind them, she pulled him towards her to crush her lips against his. He replied with the same fervour, deepening the kiss as if he wanted to devour her. She unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it along with the jacket over his shoulders, not giving him time to breathe. He answered by grabbing her dress and pulling it up over her arms and head, humming as he did so. Then he took off her camisole, leaving her in only underpants, stocking, and garters. 

He kneeled in front of her, throwing his arm around her so he could press his cheek to her stomach. His hands slowly moved to her arse and kneaded it, then he turned his head so he could kiss her on her silken-clad mound.

She moaned at his touch, so he did it again. He slowly unfastened her garter, releasing the stockings from their bind, together with the small knife and banknotes she had stuck there for safe keeping. He chuckled at her being armed, even trying out the sharpness of the knife against his thumb - it didn’t even pierce his skin. Finally, he pulled her underpants down so she could step out of them, placing a kiss on her sex. Then he rose, kissing her stomach and breasts on the way up, until he again caught her mouth with his.

She caressed his back, then she disentangled herself from his kiss so she could watch as her hands moved to splay out on his chest.

“Your skin is so perfect. Completely unblemished. Not a single scar,” she said, admiring.

He looked at her, surprised, before he breathed out a long sigh.

“I have many, many scars,” he said. “More than you can ever imagine. You just can’t see them right now.”

She looked him in the eyes, unsure of how to interpret him. 

“You are beautiful,” she whispered, before she kissed his shoulder.

“_You_ are beautiful,” he said, kissing the top of her head. He caressed her waist, when he felt something on her skin and bent to look closer. He could discern a scar, large as a coin and new enough to not have faded.

“You have scars. Where’s this from?”

“That? It must have been when we were shot at, at Poziers. I got a couple of splinters, but it was only small wounds. Not everyone was as lucky.”

He explored her body further.

“And this?” he asked, touching the inside of her upper arm. 

“That’s from when I was a child. We played pirates, my sister and I, and I was so fearless that I misjudged a jump and fell badly.”

She put her hand on his chin and made him look into her eyes.

“But that’s perhaps enough reminiscing?” she said. “How about we just live in the here, and the now, and you kiss me?”

He caressed the long strands of her hair as he smiled in response.

“I am sure that can be arranged.”

He bent down and lifted her swiftly. She wound her legs around his waist, covering his mouth with hers so they couldn’t speak anymore. 

\---

“He claimed he’d not seen much of the war, Dot, but he behaved like a soldier who needs to remind himself he’s still living.” 

Phryne gazes at the fire, trying to place her feeling about her long-lost lover, before she continues. 

“He behaved like he’d been to Hell and come back.”

“Perhaps that’s where he had picked up his ideas about the devil, Miss? Perhaps he was using it… figuratively? To explain the horror of the war, and of the trenches?”

Phryne nods, contemplating.

“That’s not a bad theory, Dot. He might even have lost some of his memories and filled them in with stories from the Bible. Though he didn’t seem delusional at all.”

“I’m sure there is a name for that, and I’m sure Doctor Macmillan could tell us all about it,” Dot says, a steadfast admirer of her mistress’s friend. “Doctor Macmillan knows _everything_.” 

“She really does, doesn’t she?” Phryne replies, equal parts amused and touched by Dot’s strong conviction.

“What else did you do, Miss? Did you show Mr Morningstar Paris? Did you go up in the Eiffel tower, and take romantic walks along the Seine?”

“Hush, Dot,” Phryne laughs. “This is not a romance story. You know I don’t really believe in love like you do.”

Dot looks at her, uncomprehending, her mouth forming a little ‘o’. If Miss Fisher doesn’t believe in love, what on Earth has she been doing with Inspector Robinson lately? But she lets it lie, aware that people sometimes aren’t ready to recognise their own motives, not even the really clever ones, like her mistress. She’s sure Miss Phryne will figure it out. Any day now. Or any year, at least.

Dot picks up her needles again to continue her knitting. Phryne takes this as her cue to continue her story. 

“We didn’t take romantic walks, Dot, but we did take a walk through the city.”

\---

“I’m an heiress,” Phryne told him as they were strolling leisurely through the streets of Montparnasse; Lucifer wanted to buy a suit of the very latest fashion, and Phryne had offered her expert assistance. “I am actually the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher, though I certainly haven’t got used to that title yet.” 

“Why, is it a new one?” he asked. “Myself, I go by so many titles. Prince of Darkness. The Great Adversary. Lord of Hell. Father of Lies. – I always hated that last one, mind,” he added grumpily. “I don’t lie, and I’m certainly nobody’s father.”

Phryne glanced queryingly at him before deciding to just ignore his impasse and carry on.

“The war killed off so many of our relatives; my father one day turned out to be a baron. Our newfound status brought us to England, leaving Australia and everything I knew. I was sent to a boarding school, to ‘make a lady out of me’.” 

She rolled her eyes at that and he snorted at her antics.

“But I saw to it I got expelled. And I ran away as soon as I could, to volunteer as a nurse in the war. To patch up all the broken men - who in the end were fighting for nothing.” Her voice turned slightly bitter at that last sentence, before she recollected what she was talking about. “I still don’t know if I’ll ever have money of my own, but if I do… then father won’t see much of me.”

Lucifer looked at her hopeful face.

“What will you do?”

“I am thinking of travelling. I’ve always wanted to see Russia, and Rome.”

“That’s all? I thought you wanted to live life to the hilt.” His voice was soft and yet aiming to push her; he really was a talent at tempting and prodding.

She nodded, contemplatively.

“You’re right. I guess I’ll just have to find where that hilt is and pursue it,” she said.

They were interrupted in their conversation by a scream. Further up the street they saw a young woman standing still in shock, a man having grabbed her purse and started to run towards a side street.

Phryne took a deep breath. “I think I know where he’s going, and I know a side passage to get there. Come on!”

Without waiting for a reply, she started to run, cursing under her breath the impracticality of her long dress, but determined not to let that stop her. Lucifer followed without much effort. 

“Quick, to the left!” she said and pointed. There the man was, heading towards them. Lucifer stepped up in front of him, forcing the man to stop unless he wanted to collide with an immovable devil.

“Mr Thief, I believe you have something that isn’t yours,” he said in French. “Very poor manners, stealing from a woman.”

Phryne came up next to him, giving the man a determined look.

“Hand that over.” She too had swapped into French effortlessly.

The man – he was really more of a boy, Phryne realised – looked between them and decided to try an escape. Phryne caught him, taking his arms and locking them behind his back. She had seen brawls, not to mention her father’s more dubious companions ever since she was a child; she had some tricks up her sleeve. The purse dropped to the ground between them. 

“Stand still,” Phryne wheezed, and the boy obeyed.

“Please don’t call the police, Mademoiselle, Monsieur. I’m already in so much trouble,” he said. 

They looked him over. He looked scrubby, and like he hadn’t had a good meal in a long time. 

“And why would we not?” Phryne asked, releasing him.

“I… well, I suppose there is no good reason. But I just… I just really wanted to eat.” He looked embarrassed.

Phryne hesitated.

“Do you promise not to steal from vulnerable girls ever again?” she asked.

The boy looked between them and flinched when he saw Lucifer’s eyes, suddenly going rather limp. 

“I promise!” he said, quickly, nervously. “I swear, I won’t!”

Phryne shot a glance Lucifer’s way at the strong reaction, but he didn’t seem to do anything special, just standing there.

“Alright, we’ll accept that this time,” she finally decided. She lifted her skirt and reached for the small pad of money in her garters. “Here,” she said. “Go buy some food. And make sure we never meet like this again.” 

The boy looked from the woman to the terrifying man beside her and took the money hesitantly. When he realised that she meant it and he was free, he quickly made himself scarce.

Lucifer looked at his companion, raising a questioning eyebrow at her. She sighed.

“I know that look of hunger, Mr Morningstar. I used to roam the streets of Collingwood wishing for someone to give me food as a child.”

He didn’t look less curious.

“We were dirt poor before father inherited. Anyway.” She looked down at the abandoned purse. “It seems we have a purse to deliver.” 

When they found the young distraught woman, being comforted by some passers-by, they gave her the retrieved purse. On a closer look she looked almost as poor as the boy who’d robbed her, and her dress was torn from the kerfuffle. She was silently crying.

“Oh, Mademoiselle, I thank you!” she exclaimed, as she took her purse. “I don’t know how to thank you enough.” When she turned to Lucifer, her face turned dreamy. “And Monsieur…” She almost lost what she was going to say. ”Beautiful monsieur, I thank you as well.”

Phryne smiled and nudged Lucifer. 

“Do you want to stay with your new admirer?” she whispered.

“No, no. Let us move on,” he whispered back. To the girl he said: “We are happy to be of assistance, Mademoiselle. But I see you have suffered from the robbery, please allow me to cover the expenses.”

He took out several notes of francs and stuffed them in her hand. At her confused expression, he patted the hand once, very awkwardly, and retreated. 

“Au revoir,” he said with a nod.

As they left the woman, they took up the stroll through the city. 

“That was quite fantastic,” Lucifer said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a lady take a grip on a man like that. He won’t forget that in a hurry.” 

“Well, thank you, Mr Morningstar. I am happy to surprise the devil,” she said teasingly. “And it certainly feels safe to have the hellish forces on one’s side.” She scrutinized his face as she continued, “The boy seemed quite frightened of you. And she was mesmerized.”

Lucifer shrugged.

“I’d never thought it could be this fun to do good.” He looked down his nose at Phryne. “Well, not that it can _really_ outweigh the joy of the positively wicked,” he said, a boyish smile on his face. “But I suppose fun and goodness aren’t always mutually exclusive.”

“You were very kind to her. Sometimes money is a real help, no matter how much people like to pretend it isn’t necessary.” She looked thoughtful. “That really is a very good way of using one’s wealth – to bring freedom also to others.”

“Well, I got the cue from a woman in my acquaintance,” he said with a wink.

They walked in silence for some time, before Lucifer spoke again.

“I think we should celebrate that we managed to be model citizens in a foreign country. Why don't you take me to your favourite restaurant?”

“As long as you take me back to your suite afterwards," Phryne said and tilted her head. "We still have so many things to try out.”

\---

“How did it all end?” 

“It was only a dalliance, Dot. Even if it was a wonderful one. I stayed with him at his hotel for a few days, spending most of my free time with him. I admit I was getting restless and I didn’t think I could allow this to go on for much longer. I had decided to thank him for feeding me and loving me a little just when I needed it, but I really had to move on.”

Dot sighs, slightly enamoured by the devil second-hand, though she would never admit it.

“I never got the chance, though. Before I had even started to explain it, his... he said it was a brother, but he looked more like a bodyguard, showed up.” 

“A bodyguard!”

“Maybe Lucifer really was royalty, or from a powerful family. He could definitely be commanding when he wanted to.” She smiled inwardly at memories she would never tell in detail to her innocent companion. “This new man – black, strong, menacing, and very beautiful – showed up one morning. I never really saw him arrive; suddenly he was just there. Despite his size he must have been incredibly stealthy.”

\--

Suddenly a man materialized in the room. He was black, without a hair on his head, and wearing a grey robe, his presence like a dark pillar.

The two of them were still entangled in the bedsheets, enjoying a slow morning.

“Lucifer, you need to go back,” the man said by way of greeting. “You have no choice.”

“Brother. Oh, how I’ve missed you,” Lucifer groaned sarcastically. 

Phryne could see how he squirmed, how he didn’t like his new visitor. She took a breath, meaning to say that there is always a choice. Lucifer stopped her with his hand on hers.

“I’m sorry, Phryne. You’re a brave woman, a remarkable one, but this is a fight that can’t be won. It’s not fair to expose you to divine wrath.” 

He turned to his visitor.

“So, you decided to not use your time powers this time, brother?” he said, mockery in his voice. Phryne watched him slip into a role, raise a façade against this intruder that he had so clearly expected.

“You had only one bedfellow; it didn't seem worth the hassle,” the visitor responded. Somehow, every word seemed to drip with frustration.

“It's not the size of the party, it's the quality,” Lucifer said with a wink Phryne's way. “And this has been an utter delight.”

He leaned forward, very slowly – Phryne thought it was probably to annoy the black man as much as possible – and kissed her on the mouth. When she heard an irritated sigh from the visitor, she smiled and returned the kiss with fervour. She didn’t mind helping him out.

“Enough!” the man finally cried, though not as angrily as Phryne had expected him to. Lucifer withdrew. 

“I will go, Amenadiel. You can note down in that diary of celestial triumphs I am sure you are keeping that you succeeded yet again. But I go reluctantly.”

“I do not care whether it is reluctantly or happily, as long as you come with me.” His face was blank, not betraying any emotion.

“Just give the devil a chance to dress first, will you,” Lucifer replied.

Phryne watched Lucifer dress. He jumped into his newly bought suit trousers, buttoned the shirt carefully and draped his jacket on top. He didn’t seem to care about any luggage except what he was wearing – he didn’t even seem to have any, she realised. 

Lucifer picked out a roll of cash from the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Would you mind paying the hotel for me?” he asked. “Please tip the maid extensively and then keep the change.” 

“I… of course!” Phryne said and watched as he placed the roll in her hand. It was large, and it seemed to contain notes of high value. “It would be my pleasure – but this is much more than you need to pay, don’t you want your money back?”

“I won’t need it where I'm going,” Lucifer shrugged. “And I'm sure you can make good use of it.”

He nodded at the black man, seemingly ready. Then he turned around again.

“I know you were going to leave too, Miss Fisher. It’s a good decision. Do everything you wanted to do. And thank you.” He smiled wistfully. “It was fun.”

“It really was,” she replied, eyes growing a little bit wet from the finality of it all. “And although where you’re going doesn’t sound particularly fun, Mr Morningstar” – she flicked her eyes to his impassive brother for a moment – “please take care.”

“Sorry for the intrusion, Miss,” the black man said, surprisingly politely. 

Then he put his hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, and they walked out of the room. From the corridor she heard an odd whooshing sound and then silence. She was at the door in an instant, peeking after them, but they were nowhere to be seen.

\---

“They were gone, Miss? That’s very quick!”

“Very. Suspiciously so. I tried to look into it later, but I found nothing about either of them. He said the visitor’s name once – I’d never heard it before, it was something like Amendael or Amenadiel, but I could never find information about someone of that name. And no Lucifer except the biblical figure. It really bothered me.”

“And the money?”

“I bought my friends several luxurious dinners and contributed to their rents. Then I prepared to go home to England.”

“I remember that; you were back in England for almost a year!” Dot contemplates as she again lets her fingers follow the pattern of the knitting. “Did you ever see him again?” 

“Never. Never heard so much as a whisper. It’s like he vanished from the face of Earth.”

Dot giggles.

“Well, if you’d believe his claims, maybe that’s really what he did.” 

It seems Dot has reached the stage where she can joke about the devil; Phryne knew she would get there eventually. She smiles. 

“Maybe he did. He did sing like an angel, and make love like a devil, and talk like a human. I learned some very valuable things from him. Maybe he really was just a most lovable devil?”

**Author's Note:**

> Here are some further notes and headcanons behind this fic:
> 
> \- Lucifer’s ‘desire mojo’ works on Phryne, but I have the headcanon that it is much less forceful and compulsive when he does it with lovers, compared to when he tries to find criminals, and that it for the receiver feels more like you want to tell him things than him forcing you to. It makes sense to me when it’s all for having sex and fun together. 
> 
> \- Phryne is the name of a Greek courtesan from the fourth century BC, who is famous for having been so beautiful she was acquitted in court because of her beauty, since it showed the gods must love her and it would be a crime to punish her. I am very, very amused that Lucifer is able to meet someone that makes him do a double take about her name.
> 
> \- Yes, “old friend” is a rather loaded term in MFMM. Perhaps Phryne learnt it from the devil?
> 
> \- As we see in the flashbacks to Paris after the war in MFMM's "Murder in Montparnasse", this is young and long-haired Phryne.
> 
> \- These two still need to meet and bond over being private detectives and having their own policemen - I hope someone will write a story like that!
> 
> \- If anyone wants my crash course in the similarities between these two self-proclaimed detectives, [click here for an ugly power point presentation I once did.](https://whopooh.tumblr.com/post/185896055343/whopooh-i-was-challenged-by-phryne-yes-because)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Duet with the Devil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20919998) by [whopooh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopooh/pseuds/whopooh)


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